The Way I Loved You
by WickedForGood13
Summary: As Amy kneels over the Doctor's dead body, she compares her love for him to her love for Rory, and finds that there is no comparison.


Amy ran, faster than she ever had before. She fell to her knees by the Doctor's side and reached for him, desperate for some form of contact with her elusive hero. "No – you can't be dead," she whispered. "You just can't. No, no, no." She smoothed the hair away from the Doctor's brow, before lowering her head to his chest and sobbing.

_I should be able to hear two heartbeats. Instead, I hear nothing. How can he be dead? He's the Doctor._

As Amy lay there, ignoring the tingling sensation in her legs that came from kneeling in the same position for so long, she remembered her and the Doctor's past, and how they had always been destined to be together – not necessarily forever, but at least for a little while. She thought of their very first meeting, when she was seven and had been an impressionable child. She remembered the years spent in therapy as a result of the Doctor's tardiness. Yet, through all of that, she had never been able to blame the Doctor for anything. She loved him, even then.

Next, she remembered when he'd come back, so unexpectedly, and how she'd hit him with a cricket bat. The adrenaline had coursed through her veins as she'd raced to help the Doctor save the Earth. That taste of excitement had whetted her appetite for the adventures that she was sure would come with traveling through all of time and space with the Doctor. Yet, once more, she'd been left behind. Still, she loved him.

The following two years were hard for her, more so than the previous twelve years had been, because the Doctor had come back once already – she now knew that he was real and more than just a figment of her imagination. So why wasn't he there with her . . . or her with him?

The night he had finally returned – this time, for good – had been the happiest night of her life, at that point in time. His invitation to go traveling had been too good to pass up, though she had momentarily considered turning the offer down, just to spite him. But she had waited too long, and refused to do so anymore. She was through with being the damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining armor to rescue her – she could save herself.

And she did – save herself, that is. She also saved a star whale when the Doctor would have killed it. Though she'd understood his reasoning – it was either the population of Starship UK or the star whale – she'd been struck by the similarities between him and the very creature he'd been prepared to destroy. She said as much, and just like that, the palpable tension between them vanished. Gone was the Doctor's threat of taking her home, all for a mistake she couldn't even remember. Instead, he took her back to his spaceship and whisked her off to London during World War II.

The Daleks – what could be said about them? They were the Doctor's greatest enemy, and he'd almost sacrificed himself for the sake of all humanity (though Amy secretly hoped that he had also been thinking of her). However much his loss would have pained her, she couldn't help but find his god complex somewhat attractive. To be ready and willing to die for a loved one was admirable, but to be ready and willing to die for a nameless entity was even more so.

The images were cycling faster and faster through Amy's mind now. The Weeping Angels; attempting to convince the Doctor to leave her; him thrusting her behind him as he faced off the approaching Angels in that dark tunnel; being left behind – again; the feel of his forehead pressed against hers; their lips, moving as one . . . In Venice, though Amy had felt a smidgen of fear at willing entering that 'academy,' she'd known that the Doctor would come for her. He always did, he _promised_. And he knew better than to break this one.

It was only in that moment, as Amy knelt over the Doctor's rapidly cooling body, that she realized it had always been him. Everything in her life had always been _about_ him, her Raggedy Man. When the Dream Lord had made her choose, and the Doctor had later revealed that the Dream Lord _was_ him, Amy had had an epiphany: she'd chosen Rory because that's what the Doctor's darker side expected her to do. The Doctor cared about her – he always had – and in _that_ way. The signs were always there: the sideways glances . . . the touches that neither one seemed to mind, even when Rory was present.

_I made the wrong choice,_ Amy thought with sudden clarity. _I chose Rory because he was the safe and easy option, while the Doctor and I challenge each other; we aren't afraid to speak our minds. Whereas Rory is insecure, the Doctor overcompensates. When I was swallowed up by the Earth, I wanted Rory to know that I was sorry, but I loved the Doctor. I could never be happy being married to Rory, though certainly not because of him as a person. It's Leadworth that would be the problem. Leadworth is so dull that I'd probably get pregnant just for something to do. And yet . . . I've made my choice. Now I have to live with it. Still, in that moment before the Pandorica closed, I couldn't believe that the Doctor would think that I wouldn't need him. I will always need the Doctor. I can't imagine life without him, my imaginary friend._

"Doctor, come back," whispered Amy. "Don't leave me – not again."

_Hey, Pond. Guess what? Gotcha._

At the memory, whether real or imagined, she smiled. The Doctor would never truly be gone, she realized. Not as long as there were those who remained loyal to him and what he had striven to achieve. She, certainly, would never forget, and neither would Rory or River Song. The Doctor would live on through them.


End file.
